Even the fierce gazes of those present could not dispel the oppressive aura that had descended so suddenly, an aura so overwhelming that it was almost suffocating.
Everyone’s eyes were instinctively drawn toward the figure seated upon the throne-like ship on the sea.
A wide-brimmed cowboy hat concealed most of the man’s face, revealing only a sharply defined jaw and tightly pursed lips.
The throne beneath him seemed to proclaim to the entire world that he was the strongest man in it.
That was Dracule Mihawk, the World’s Strongest Swordsman.
Roronoa Zoro stood at the edge of the Baratie, one foot already slightly raised, his body taut like a bowstring pulled to its limit.
Cold sweat streamed down his angular face as though someone had just poured ice water over his head, running along his cheeks and soaking into his neck.
It wasn’t because of the heat.
It came from a tremor deep within his soul.
Simply being enveloped by Mihawk’s presence made Zoro feel like a frog being watched by a giant serpent.
Even breathing had become difficult.
His muscles screamed danger against his will.
Every instinct urged him to retreat—to flee from this crushing pressure.
So this is… the World’s Strongest Swordsman?
Zoro clenched his teeth, waves of shock surging through his heart.
Should I retreat?
The instant the thought appeared, he ruthlessly crushed it.
An image immediately surfaced in his mind.
A girl younger than him, yet one who had always been able to defeat him with ease.
Kuina.
Beneath the setting sun, on the wooden floor of the dojo, the two of them had crossed swords again and again.
In the end, they had made that solemn promise.
“I’ll definitely become the World’s Strongest Swordsman!
And when I do, I’ll do it for both of us!”
“How could I possibly be afraid?!”
Zoro growled.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to dispel the last trace of hesitation in his heart.
“I just didn’t expect… to meet him this soon!”
So that meant…
The goal promised to Kuina was still so unimaginably far away?
Was it still too early?
No.
Precisely because the gap is this enormous, I can’t retreat here!
Just as Zoro’s emotions surged, the figure wearing the cowboy hat brought his ship to a stop.
Mihawk slightly turned his head.
His gaze beneath the brim did not immediately fall upon Zoro.
Instead, it settled on another person nearby.
Mox.
Mox stood there calmly, as though completely dismantling the enormous flagship of the Krieg Pirates and reducing it to nothing had been nothing more than a trivial matter.
Mihawk’s gaze remained on Mox for a moment.
His normally emotionless voice contained the faintest trace of fluctuation.
“Interesting ability.”
Mox met Mihawk’s gaze without arrogance or submission.
Then he glanced down at Zoro beside him.
He knew Zoro too well.
The fire burning in his eyes and the hand tightly gripping his sword hilt told Mox everything he needed to know about what his companion intended to do.
As a companion, there was only one thing he could do to help.
Mox extended both hands, palms facing each other.
He slowly drew them apart.
Wooden textures gradually emerged in the air before him.
In only a few moments, an enormous wooden platform appeared as though from thin air.
It was broad and perfectly level, large enough for dozens of people to stand upon.
The platform stretched from the side of the Baratie all the way to Mihawk’s feet, completely bridging the sea between them.
Without saying another word, Zoro took a deep breath and leaped forward.
He landed firmly on the wooden platform.
The three swords at his waist swayed with his movement, producing faint metallic clinks.
Step by step, he walked toward Mihawk at the opposite end.
Every step was firm and deliberate, as though the wooden boards beneath his feet trembled under his resolve.
The sea breeze ruffled his green hair, revealing eyes blazing with fighting spirit.
“I went out to sea… because of you!”
Zoro’s voice carried clearly across the platform.
There was no uncertainty in it.
Only determination.
Mihawk finally raised his head.
The shadow of his cowboy hat shifted, revealing a pair of golden eyes as sharp as a hawk’s, seemingly capable of seeing straight through a person’s heart.
He looked at Zoro approaching him.
“What is your goal?”
“The strongest!”
Zoro’s answer was short and powerful.
Mihawk’s lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile.
It carried a hint of mockery, as though he found the answer simply amusing.
“How foolish.”
Zoro abruptly stopped.
He raised a hand and removed the green bandanna tied around his arm.
With a practiced motion, he tied it around his head.
That vivid green stood out beneath the sunlight, like a symbol of his resolve.
Shing!
A crisp sound rang out.
A flash of cold steel appeared.
Zoro had drawn Wado Ichimonji, pointing its tip directly at Mihawk.
“I imagine you’re pretty bored.”
Zoro’s gaze was as sharp as a blade.
“Fight me.”
Around the platform, everyone focused on the swordsman standing at its center.
The Baratie chefs.
The surviving members of the Krieg Pirates floating in the sea after being rescued by Gin.
Luffy and the others.
Every gaze converged upon Zoro.
“That… is he…?”
One of the chefs rubbed his eyes as though unable to believe what he was seeing.
“Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro?!”
“What?!”
Another chef exclaimed.
“The legendary three-sword-style swordsman who was undefeated throughout the East Blue?!”
Sanji, standing on the Baratie’s deck, was stunned as well.
The cigarette between his lips parted slightly.
His eyes flashed with surprise.
“So that’s…?”
The name was obviously familiar even to him.
The Pirate Hunter of the East Blue.
A swordsman famous for his incredible swordsmanship and his refusal to let a wanted criminal escape.
Who would have thought that he was one of Luffy’s companions—and that he would actually challenge that legendary man?
Mihawk looked at Zoro’s stance.
His golden eyes remained utterly calm.
“A fight?”
He slowly shook his head.
His voice was indifferent, almost condescending.
“Pitiful weakling…”
“If you were truly a first-rate swordsman, you would understand the difference in our strength without even crossing blades.”
“Whether drawing your sword against me is courage or stupidity… I wonder.”
“Because of my ambition…”
Zoro’s voice trembled slightly.
Not with fear.
With excitement and determination.
“And because of a promise I made to a friend!”
Mihawk said nothing more.
He simply reached toward his chest and pulled down what appeared to be an ordinary cross-shaped pendant.
With a flick of his fingers, the casing opened.
What emerged wasn’t a precious jewel or a photograph.
It was a tiny knife.
Its blade was so short that it wasn’t even as long as Zoro’s finger.
Zoro’s pupils contracted.
His hand trembled slightly around his sword from anger.
“What… do you mean?!”
It was a blatant insult.
Mihawk, however, seemed not to notice Zoro’s fury.
He continued speaking in the same calm tone.
“Unlike a foolish beast that goes all out merely to hunt a rabbit…”
He paused.
“Even with a small knife…”
His gaze swept over Zoro.
“For the East Blue, the weakest of the four seas, I’m afraid I simply don’t have a smaller blade.”
“Bastard!”
Zoro was completely enraged.
“There’s a limit to arrogance!”
“Don’t regret it when you’re dead!”
Before his words had even finished, Zoro’s figure had already moved.
“Three Sword Style—Onigiri!”
Almost instantaneously, the other two swords at his waist were drawn.
One in each hand.
One between his teeth.
Three ferocious streams of sword pressure intertwined into the shape of a terrifying demon’s face, tearing through the air as they descended upon Mihawk.
It was one of Zoro’s strongest techniques.
No one had ever managed to withstand it head-on, much less see through it.
Yet facing such a powerful attack—
Mihawk merely raised the hand holding the tiny knife.
Clink!
A soft sound rang out.
It was as though he had casually brushed away an annoying fly.
Zoro’s Onigiri, powerful enough to cleave stone and cut through steel, was effortlessly stopped by that tiny knife.
The three blades collided against it.
Then the attack vanished as though it had plunged into a bottomless sea.
Time itself seemed to stop.
Zoro remained frozen in his attacking stance.
His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the tiny knife resting against the crossing point of his three swords.
The hand holding it was as steady as a mountain.
Cold sweat once again emerged on Zoro’s forehead.
This time, it carried a trace of icy despair.
He finally understood.
He finally understood what the title World’s Strongest Swordsman truly meant.
The difference between them wasn’t merely enormous.
It was an abyss.
A gulf that could not be easily bridged through effort alone.
The difference between a child and a giant.
“What…?”
Zoro muttered.
For the first time, he experienced something he had never truly felt before.
Helplessness.
On the Baratie’s deck, Luffy clenched his fists tightly.
He didn’t understand swordsmanship very well, but even he could see the power behind Zoro’s attack.
And he could see the shock—and growing despair—in Zoro’s expression.
Concern surged through him.
He almost rushed onto the platform immediately.
“Zoro’s strongest attack…”
Usopp’s mouth hung open.
“It was… blocked by a little knife?!”
Zoro suddenly came back to his senses.
The shock in his eyes was replaced by an even fiercer fighting spirit.
He refused to believe it.
He absolutely refused to believe it!
“GRAAAH!”
Zoro roared.
His wrists twisted.
The three swords seemed to come alive, instantly shifting through dozens of attack angles.
Blades flashed like a torrential downpour as they rained toward Mihawk.
Two Sword Style.
One Sword Style.
Three Sword Style.
Technique after technique.
Every strike carried the years of training and obsession he had poured into his swordsmanship.
Yet Mihawk remained exactly where he was.
His feet didn’t move an inch.
The tiny knife in his hand seemed almost alive.
With seemingly casual movements, he precisely deflected every one of Zoro’s attacks.
Clink!
Clang!
Clink!
Clang!
The sounds of steel colliding rang out continuously, crisp and dense.
Every collision sent a numbing vibration through Zoro’s arms.
In Mihawk’s eyes, Zoro’s attacks were fierce, but riddled with openings.
It was like watching a child wildly swinging a toy sword.
Finally, Mihawk seemed to grow somewhat impatient.
Zoro’s swordsmanship was too crude.
It lacked the true essence of swordsmanship.
There was no meaning in continuing this game.
When Zoro launched another slash, Mihawk casually turned his wrist.
The tiny knife rose at an incredibly precise angle.
Clang!
The three swords were simultaneously deflected.
Zoro’s chest was left completely exposed.
A nearly imperceptible flash of steel followed.
Shhk!
The tiny knife pierced directly into Zoro’s chest.
Not deeply.
But deeply enough to instantly rob him of his strength.
Zoro’s body jerked to a stop.
Every attack ceased.
He looked down at the knife embedded in his chest.
Blood slowly seeped from the wound, staining his clothes red.
Mihawk withdrew the knife.
There was barely any blood on its blade.
He looked at Zoro standing before him.
His voice remained calm, though a trace of curiosity had appeared in it.
“Do you want to die?”
“Why didn’t you retreat?”
Zoro clutched his bleeding chest and breathed heavily.
His face was pale as paper.
Yet his eyes were brighter and more resolute than ever.
“I don’t know either…”
His voice was hoarse from the pain.
“I just feel…”
“If I take one step backward here…”
“Then all the effort I’ve put in… and the promise I made… will become meaningless.”
“And I’ll never be able to stand in this position again!”
Mihawk looked at him.
A faint ripple passed through his golden eyes.
“Exactly.”
“This is defeat.”
“That’s why…”
Zoro raised his head.
His eyes contained no trace of retreat.
Only a flame burning to the very end.
“I can’t retreat!”
“Even if it means dying?”
Mihawk narrowed his eyes slightly.
Zoro grinned.
His smile contained both resolve and a hint of madness.
“If I die…”
“All the better!”
Mihawk fell silent.
He looked at the young man before him.
Despite being seriously wounded, the young swordsman still glared at him like a wild wolf refusing to submit.
Something within Mihawk had been stirred.
And that ripple seemed to grow slightly stronger.
He slowly put away the tiny knife, returning it to the cross-shaped pendant around his neck.
Then he reached behind himself.
His hand closed around the massive black sword shaped like a cross.
Vmmm—
As the enormous black blade representing the World’s Strongest Swordsman slowly emerged, an aura far more vast and razor-sharp than before erupted from Mihawk.
It was as though even the air itself was being sliced apart, releasing a mournful whine.
The entire sea seemed to fall silent.
Only the oppressive presence radiating from the black blade remained.
This was the real Hawkeye.
“A powerful swordsman…”
Mihawk’s voice was deeper now.
There was anticipation for battle within it.
And, more importantly, respect for the young man before him.
“What is your name?”
“Roronoa…”
Zoro tightened his grip on his three swords with every ounce of strength he had.
“Zoro!”
Mihawk nodded.
“Good.”
His grip on the Black Blade, Yoru, tightened slightly.
Zoro took a deep breath.
All his strength.
All his conviction.
All his unwillingness to accept defeat.
All his obsession.
He poured everything into his three swords.
His body leaned forward.
He assumed a stance unlike anything he had used before.
“Three Sword Style Secret Technique—Three Thousand Worlds!”
This was the strongest attack Zoro could unleash at his current level.
Countless flashes of sword light instantly gathered and overlapped, forming a massive torrent that seemed capable of cutting heaven and earth apart.
It surged toward Mihawk with unstoppable momentum.
Mihawk’s eyes narrowed.
This time, he no longer held back.
He gripped Yoru and slowly swung it.
There was no earth-shattering explosion.
No overwhelming spectacle.
Only a simple black slash that seemed to contain the fundamental truth of swordsmanship itself.
The two attacks collided at the exact center of the platform.
There was no earth-shaking explosion.
Only a faint, crisp sound.
As though space itself had been torn apart.
Then everything fell silent.
Zoro remained frozen in his attacking stance.
The two had switched positions.
Yoru was already back in Mihawk’s scabbard.
Several seconds later—
Crack!
The two swords in Zoro’s hands shattered.
They broke into several pieces and fell onto the wooden platform.
Only Wado Ichimonji remained intact, clenched between his teeth.
“I… lost?”
Zoro lowered his head.
He looked at the broken swords in his hands, feeling the agony and weakness spreading throughout his body.
A trace of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.
His body swayed.
Then he could no longer hold himself up.
Thud!
He dropped to his knees.
A moment later, he collapsed face-first onto the platform.
“Zoro!”
Luffy could no longer contain himself.
He shouted Zoro’s name, his voice filled with anxiety and fury.
Nami covered her mouth.
Her eyes immediately reddened as she desperately fought back tears.
Usopp also clenched his fists tightly, his palms drenched in sweat.
Then—
Zoro, lying on the ground, slowly and shakily raised his head.
Using the arm that could still move, he supported himself and gradually stood.
His body swayed precariously, as though he could collapse again at any moment.
Yet his eyes were more resolute than ever.
He spread his arms.
Facing Mihawk head-on, he exposed his chest.
Mihawk raised an eyebrow, somewhat puzzled.
“What are you doing?”
Zoro gasped for breath.
His voice was hoarse, but clear.
“A wound on the back…”
“Is a swordsman’s shame!”
Mihawk’s pupils contracted slightly.
He looked at Zoro.
Even in defeat, the young swordsman refused to turn his back on his enemy.
For the first time, obvious admiration appeared in Mihawk’s golden eyes.
He slowly nodded.
“Impressive.”
The moment the words fell—
Mihawk drew his sword again.
This time, he did not use his full strength.
He merely swung it casually.
A razor-sharp slash flashed through the air and struck Zoro directly across the chest, leaving a deep wound.
Splurt!
Blood burst from Zoro’s chest.
It stained his clothes.
It stained the wooden platform beneath his feet.
His body swayed.
Then he could no longer remain standing.
Like a broken kite, he fell backward toward the sea.
“Zoro!”
Luffy roared, his eyes widening in fury.
Almost the instant Zoro fell into the water, a black figure shot into the sea like an arrow.
It was Sanji.
He dove in at full speed, grabbed the unconscious Zoro, and swiftly carried him back to the Baratie’s deck.
Usopp and Nami immediately surrounded him.
They anxiously called Zoro’s name, desperately trying to figure out what they could do.
Mox also rushed over.
A faint glow spread across his hands as he placed them over Zoro’s wounds.
Using his ability, he cleansed the dirt and impurities from the injured areas, doing his best to reduce Zoro’s suffering and prevent infection.
Sanji crouched beside him.
He stared at the gruesome wound across Zoro’s chest, his brows tightly furrowed.
He instinctively reached into his pocket for a cigarette.
Instead, he pulled out several cigarettes completely soaked by seawater.
He squeezed them.
They had become nothing more than soggy scraps of paper.
He casually tossed them aside.
“That idiot…”
Sanji’s voice carried a complicated mixture of frustration and admiration.
“He knew he couldn’t beat him, and he still went charging in!”
Meanwhile, Luffy had already turned his entire attention toward the figure still standing at the end of the wooden platform.
His eyes burned with anger.
His fists clenched tightly.
The muscles in his arms bulged.
Then, unexpectedly, a layer of black Armament Haki spread across his fists.
“You bastard…”
Luffy roared.
“What did you do to my crewmate?!”
His body flashed forward.
In an instant, he crossed the distance of the platform.
Carrying overwhelming momentum, he swung a punch directly at Mihawk’s face.
Mihawk’s eyes narrowed.
For the first time, a trace of surprise appeared in his expression at the sudden Armament Haki.
The East Blue… actually has someone capable of using Armament Haki?
He tilted his head slightly.
Luffy’s furious punch passed harmlessly beside his face.
The force of the punch swept across his cheek, causing his cowboy hat to flutter slightly.
“Are you that man’s companion?”
Mihawk looked at the enraged Luffy.
His voice returned to its usual calmness.
“Don’t worry.”
“He’s fine.”
Luffy froze.
His anger subsided slightly.
“Really?”
He immediately turned toward Zoro on the deck.
Under everyone’s frantic calls, Zoro coughed twice and slowly opened his eyes.
His face was still pale.
But his eyes remained clear.
Zoro slowly raised one hand and covered his face, which was still wet with tears, as though trying to hide something.
With his other hand, he tightly gripped Wado Ichimonji, pointing its tip toward the sky.
“Luffy…”
His voice was faint, but it carried clearly to Luffy—and to everyone present.
“Did you hear me?”
“If I can’t become the World’s Strongest Swordsman…”
“You’d be in trouble, wouldn’t you?”
Luffy stared at him blankly.
Zoro took a deep breath.
Every breath tugged painfully at his chest.
Yet his voice was filled with an unwavering oath.
“I’ll never lose again!”
“Until I defeat him… until I become the World’s Strongest Swordsman…”
“I will never lose again!”
“Do you have a problem with that… Pirate King?”
Luffy froze for a moment.
Then a brilliant smile spread across his face.
As always, it was filled with absolute trust and wholehearted support.
“Yeah!”
“No problem, Zoro!”
Hearing Luffy’s answer, Zoro’s tense body seemed to relax slightly.
A relieved smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Then the pain made him grimace again.
Mox patted Zoro on the shoulder, signaling him to rest.
Then he slowly stood.
He turned around.
His eyes settled upon the World’s Strongest Swordsman still standing at the far end of the platform.
“Mox!
What are you going to do?!”
Usopp immediately shouted nervously.
He had a very bad feeling about this.
Luffy also looked toward Mox.
He could see the intense fighting spirit radiating from him.
Yet Luffy didn’t stop him.
He could sense that Mox’s emotions were far from calm.
Mox didn’t turn around.
He didn’t say a word.
He simply began walking.
One step.
Then another.
Steady and deliberate.
He walked toward Mihawk at the opposite end of the platform.
The sea breeze lifted the hem of his clothes.
Sunlight illuminated his figure.
Yet it seemed incapable of dispersing the increasingly heavy aura surrounding him.
His target was only one person.
Dracule Mihawk.